


The Wolf Comes In The Night

by innocent_until_proven_geeky



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Obi-Wan Kenobi, In which Hope attempts to make people sad, Multi, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Relationship, Quarantine, Yes this is a quarantine fic you're welcome, no it is not about Wolffe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23352925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/innocent_until_proven_geeky/pseuds/innocent_until_proven_geeky
Summary: When the 212th and Obi-Wan fall ill in rapid succession, despite Obi-Wan trying to pass off his fears as a false alarm, their efforts in the Outer Rim grind to a halt.  Obi-Wan is forcibly separated from his men until he heals, and Cody can't bear to see his General behind quarantine glass.
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 44
Kudos: 219





	1. The Siege on Ord Cestus

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I know, I know, "a quarantine fic during an international quarantine why are you like this?" The answer is because I am weak for my friends over at the Clone Wars Centre and cannot not write for them when they ask me to. Plus this was actually a really fun undertaking!

The flashing light of an incoming communication woke him. He had actually rested for more than an hour or so, for once; he supposed he had Cody to thank for that.

He pushed himself up off the bedroll and reached for his commlink, brushing stray hairs out of his eyes as he did so. “General Kenobi,” he greeted.

“It’s good to hear your voice, Master Kenobi.”

“Ah, Mace!” Though the elder Jedi couldn’t see him, Obi-Wan smiled at his friend and colleague. “Master Windu, how is the siege on Ryloth?”

Mace chuckled. The sound was grainy, but it came through, and after several days of jammed communications Obi-Wan thanked the Force for that small blessing. “Besides the fact that General Syndulla is tired of my face?” Mace joked.

“Yes, besides that.” Obi-Wan smirked and sat upright, cross-legged, on the bedroll. As soon as this communication was over he would have to meditate and be back to work.

“There haven’t been any major setbacks yet, but the Separatists seem desperate for this planet.”

“That seems to be the case with most of these Outer Rim battles lately.” Obi-Wan reached out for his datapad across the small sleeping space his single-man tent provided. The problem with interplanetary sieges was getting his own men supplies; droids didn’t really _need_ food, water, or medical, and they were a dime a dozen compared to the men Obi-Wan and his fellow Jedi worked with, and so every time the Republic gained ground it seemed the Separatists gained it back.

“Is everything going according to plan on Cestus?” Mace asked.

Obi-Wan scrolled through his datapad. “Yes, it would seem so. Aside from several days of communicating to my men face-to-face or with hand signals only, everything is right on schedule.”

“Wonderful. Do you have time to attend a Council meeting this afternoon?”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Does anyone? The entire Army is deployed right now.” It was a desperate push to gain the loyalties of as many planets as possible at the same time that they protected the people from the mindless battle droids; Obi-Wan could not think of a single company that might still be on Coruscant, nor a Jedi general or commander to join it.

“Not really,” Mace conceded, “but we must ensure we are all on the same page. It is imperative that these sieges go well.”

Obi-Wan heaved a near-silent sigh. “I will do my best to attend, Master.”

“Good to hear, Obi-Wan. The meeting will be at fourteen-hundred hours, Temple standard.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. “I expected nothing else.”

:::

Cody stood at the command table, helmet tucked under his arm. “I think our defenses on the western barrier are getting weaker. Blades, if you’ll take your platoon and cover that area there, rebuild where the droids have tried to tear it down, that will allow Waxer and his platoon to get some rest while keeping us secure. It looks like they want to break our siege--”

He was interrupted by the sound of soft, leather-clad footfalls coming up behind him, the ones that always sent a little shiver up his spine. He turned.

“General Kenobi,” he greeted. “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Cody smirked and held out his hand for his General to shake.

“Thank you, Commander.” General Kenobi gave him a sly smile. “I trust nothing fell apart while I was resting?” He scoffed at himself. “Never under your command.”

Cody wrinkled his nose, just slightly, before turning back to the table. “I was just sending Blades and his platoon to cover Waxer’s and to rebuild our defenses on the west side.” The child in him--the child who was still a cadet, because that’s all his childhood was--wanted to ask, _What do you think?_ , but after serving alongside Kenobi for well over two years he knew better. Kenobi always liked his plans.

“Good plan, Cody.” General Kenobi nodded to Blades, a gesture that always impressed Cody. It wasn’t like most of his brothers had massive, distinctive scars on the sides of their faces, but General Kenobi knew each of them by name and pronouns, rank, and number. “See to it, Lieutenant.”

Blades nodded sharply, turned a perfect about-face, and replaced his helmet before stalking off to find his platoon. Cody expected another skirmish on the side Blades and his troops would be defending, and they had seen hardly any action so far this siege.

“All other rotations will continue as planned. If you have forgotten your rotations, see me or Cody.” Kenobi nodded, face kind and soft, to each of the lieutenants and captains around the table in turn.

As one, the men saluted; then, those who were about to step into the defensive positions marched off to gather their platoons and companies, while those who had the next 12 to 24 hours reprieve meandered, wandering through camp at a leisurely pace.

Cody faced General Kenobi. “I’m a bit worried about this siege, sir. Why do the droids keep trying to break down our defenses on that side?”

Kenobi’s face twisted momentarily, a concern flashing across it which Cody had learned to associate with Force premonitions. It was gone in an instant, but Cody was sure Kenobi had sensed something, some sort of danger. And then Kenobi smiled, and said, “Droids aren’t as clever as breathing, thinking people, dear Commander,” and walked away, always ready to boost the morale of the men if they weren’t in active combat.

:::

Obi-Wan was the first to greet Waxer and his platoon when they arrived back at camp. “Well, hello, Lieutenant,” he said.

Waxer stood to the side, next to Obi-Wan, letting his men in through the gates first. “Hello, General!” He snapped a salute, but immediately after stood at ease, a habit the veterans had gotten into around Obi-Wan. The older the men were, and the longer they had been with the 212th, the quicker they dropped the military posture when they were around him. Waxer was no exception.

“Your men appear to be doing well.” Obi-Wan gestured at Boil’s squad, the last to enter the camp.

“Yes sir,” Waxer replied. “No injuries, at least according to Aikiyc.” He lowered his voice. “I’m starting to wonder if he’s correct, though. One or two of the men have been complaining of chest pain, and Grev has a bit of a cough.”

“Nothing I’m sure Helix and Aikiyc can’t handle,” Obi-Wan replied. He moved to close the gates, and Waxer ran to the other side to help. “Tell me,” he grunted, “have you noticed more droids there than any of the other postings?”

Waxer thought about it for a moment before nodding. “It may just be a weak point, sir. Blades’s men are some of the best builders in the Two-Twelfth, though. I’m sure they can solve it.”

“You’re absolutely right, Waxer.” Obi-Wan led the way back to the center of camp. “Make sure to get your men checked out by Helix. Yourself, too, and then get some rest.” He placed a hand on Waxer’s shoulder. “It sounds like it’s been a busy few hours.”

“Yes, sir!” Waxer headed off to the left, where the medics’ tent was.

Obi-Wan chose to turn right, back toward his own tent. Maybe it was just malfunctioning helmet filters, dust in the lungs. Maybe it was mild injuries, like Waxer suspected.

Maybe the warning the Force had screamed into his mind during his meditation an hour ago was about something else.


	2. Outbreak

It took about one rotation for Obi-Wan to be proven wrong.

It started with Waxer’s platoon. Aikiyc noticed that Grev had a fever. It was low, but any fever for a clone was a cause for concern, since their immune systems were nearly perfected by the Kaminoans. It generally meant there was something bigger at work.

Then Tally and Gearshift got coughs, and Dance, Wooley, and Gaingli got the chest pain.

A few hours in, when Aikiyc took Tally’s temperature and found a fever, Blades commed Cody.

“Commander,” he said, “Better’s noticed a cough from some of the _vode_. Trapper says his chest hurts. We’ve never had a problem like this just from building up defenses.”

Cody groaned. “Thank you for letting me know, Lieutenant. We’re having some similar problems here in camp. I will keep you up to date.”

Then Aikiyc started coughing, followed by Baar’ur and Helix.

It incapacitated half the men in the camp by the second rotation; by the third, everyone was feeling the effects except for Obi-Wan.

“I have reason to believe the Separatists on Ord Cestus have designed a pathogen that targets the clones directly and specifically.” It was another Council meeting. “We will have to continue this siege at a later date; my men need better medical care than what we can currently offer. Even my medics have fallen ill. We need an evacuation.”

Master Plo Koon’s expression twisted behind his mask and goggles. “We will get you your evacuation, Master Kenobi.”

“Hang on,” Mace interjected. “I recognize the desperation of your plight, Master Kenobi, but I don’t think we have anyone to spare. Besides, if it is a pathogen, like you say, it could spread to other troopers. We can’t risk that.”

The muscles that made up Plo’s browline wrinkled and tensed. “We can’t risk this entire battalion of troopers to an illness that may be treatable!”

“I could ask Lama Su or perhaps Nala Se if they know anything.” Master Shaak Ti’s voice was steady, but she had one long-fingered hand up around her chin, and her brow furrowed tightly as she spoke. “Their genetic experiments,” she said, just shy of spitting the words out, “are their pride and joy. They may be able to help us.”

“Anything that can be done. I’m worried about my men; Ghost Company in particular is in a bad way.” Obi-Wan bowed to the other Masters. “I apologize, but I must be going. I have multiple men who have developed what we think may be pneumonia; I have been doing my best to heal them when I can.” He turned off the holoprojector before they could say another word and slumped in the chair he had been using. His eyes closed of their own accord, and he struggled to open them again.

“General.”

Obi-Wan started. He hadn’t even heard Cody approaching the command center. He stood hastily and straightened his robes, dusting at them with his hands. “Commander. You should be resting.”

Cody dipped his head. “All due respect, sir, someone has to keep this battalion together.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Have I not been doing a good job of that?”

Cody stepped back, raised his hands palms-out. He had just processed his own words. “I apologize, General. I meant no disrespect. The men appreciate your leadership.” He stopped like he was cutting himself off. Inhale. Exhale. He breathed deeply for a moment, then began again. “It’s just that you haven’t been sleeping much, and you’ve been using the Force far more often than usual. I’m well, sir. I can keep watch.” He punctuated his statement with a deep, dry cough.

“It is my understanding that you would have your men rest if they were feeling as you do now.” Obi-Wan’s expression softened. “I can continue working, Cody. Don’t be a hypocrite.” His lips twitched.

Cody’s head waggled like he was rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But you shouldn’t be a hypocrite, either.” He barked out a short laugh. “Just saying.” He made his way across the tent, toward Obi-Wan and toward the medics’ station. “Take care of yourself, sir,” he said, more gently now. “We can’t afford to lose you.”

:::

Grev died that evening. The medics couldn’t break their fever, and their lungs couldn’t function past the pneumonia anymore.

Obi-Wan had just left Grev’s side; he thought that he had been able to relieve some of the inflammation in their chest. His hands hovered over Counter, and as he was about to settle into the healing meditation he heard a great heaving for breath.

The medics, though falling ill themselves, were still standing. “Grev!” Baar’ur exclaimed, and sprinted the short way from where ve was trying to find another antibiotic pack for Jyng, whose illness had just progressed to pneumonia. Ve slid to Grev’s side, frantic, and raised them up against vis armored thighs. “Helix!” ve barked. “Do we have any oxygen?”

Helix swiped a hand down his face. He no longer wore his helmet, and had even given up on a mask. His lips pursed, and Obi-Wan thought he saw tears in his eyes.

Obi-Wan patted Counter’s shoulder once, then scrambled back to Grev’s side. He had to breathe, had to help his trooper breathe. He placed a hand directly on Grev’s chest and slipped unceremoniously into the basic healing meditation.

He was vaguely aware of scuffling around him. Baar’ur was trying to see if ve could set Grev’s helmet to filter for oxygen only; it wasn’t working, and Baar’ur grew more frustrated with every passing moment. That meant Helix had probably taken Baar’ur’s place and was holding Grev half-upright.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into his meditation and concentrated on the muck in Grev’s lungs, but it was thick and Grev’s breaths were getting shallower even as Obi-Wan tried to make them deeper.

After fifteen minutes, Grev’s breathing stopped.

It was another fifteen minutes before someone grabbed Obi-Wan’s arm and pulled him away from Grev’s body.

He forced himself to stay composed. His troopers had just lost a sibling; this was not his loss.

 _There is no death. There is the Force_.

But, truth be told, he wasn’t composed. Tears pricked his eyes and he didn’t bother to see who it was dragging him away from the medics’ station. He simply let himself be dragged along, away from everything, to his own tent, where he was forced down onto his bedroll.

It was about then that he realized he had been repeating a whimpered, “No, no, no.” He buried his face in his hands and once again forced himself to breathe.

“Sleep, General.” It was Cody. “I’ll keep watch. I’ll wake you if we need to.”

Obi-Wan turned on his comm, choosing the long-range channel. “We need an immediate medical evac.”

His voice was hoarse; with exhaustion or emotion, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t wait to hear Mace’s response. He turned off the comm and fell against the bedroll, and had a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are short right now. I'm having a little bit of trouble convincing them to be longer. I intend for them to be a bit longer eventually! The whole story will be on the low word count side, probably, though. (It's because word count is a false construct in my brain.)
> 
> All canon clone trooper characters use he/him pronouns, but a lot of my OCs, especially in this fic, prefer other pronouns. Grev uses they/them, Jyng uses she/her, Baar'ur uses ve/vir. Aikiyc uses he/him, and I actually think I borrowed Helix from 


	3. Evacuation of Ord Cestus

Mace gave Obi-Wan’s request for evacuation and the 212th’s coordinates to the medical station over Ord Cestus. The medical station gave that information to _Negotiator_ ’s bridge; _Negotiator_ sent the gunships down.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t thought of the medical station before now; it was just that, until Mace got Obi-Wan’s tired, single-statement comm, he didn’t realize it was as bad as Obi-Wan said. Obi-Wan was a good Jedi, but sometimes a bit dramatic. He got it, the rest of the Council was sure, from both Qui-Gon and Anakin. And so they had immediately shot down the possibility of the medical station.

Until Obi-Wan insisted they needed medical evacuation.

The illness progressed rapidly, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help it but he was afraid for his troopers. It was becoming more and more obvious to him that this disease targeted the clones, and between Grev’s death and the evacuation, the equivalent of a whole squad had succumbed to it.

Selfishly, his hopes that Cody would heal were stronger than his hopes for most of the other troopers. He kicked himself for it, but it was Cody. He would never admit it out loud, but he was quite sure he loved Cody.

Cody, trying to take Obi-Wan’s place while the Jedi slept, had overworked himself. He collapsed at the medics’ station when they first heard the roar of the gunships as a steady hum. “Larties,” he said to Baar’ur, who could only glare at him.

Even Helix was just about down for the count.

The first wave of gunships took the troopers in critical condition. Aikiyc tagged along as their medic, despite being critical himself.

At the last second, Baar’ur shoved Cody into one of the gunships. “You need it, Commander,” ve said, and vis tone bit at Cody.

“I’m fine,” Cody tried to insist, but it came out as a coughing fit, and he very nearly collapsed again. His lungs rattled in his chest, vibrating with each labored breath.

Baar’ur was still wearing vis helmet, and was grateful ve could hide vis grin. To vir, it sounded like Cody had simply said, “Fine,” and even though ve knew Cody better than that, ve would take any concession ve could get from the stubborn Commander.

“Should have been named Atin instead of Kote,” ve commented to Helix, who still wasn’t wearing his helmet and grinned broadly, if a little weakly.

:::

Obi-Wan conducted the next several waves of the evacuation. Only nine men could fit on a gunship at a time, with so many of them too weak to stand or even sit; working with Baar’ur, Helix, and the other medics, they built up a triage system between waves.

By the end of the second wave, all of Waxer’s platoon, minus Grev, Georg, and Zan, who had all died, were on their way to _Negotiator_. As soon as everyone was back, they would make the short trip to the medical station.

Obi-Wan hoped it was enough.

They only had a few gunships available, as any pilots who had been cross-trained in field medicine were suddenly stepping up to take the place of the medics themselves. Because they could only fill the gunships to a little over a quarter their normal capacity, the evacuation itself took hours.

Obi-Wan was afraid whenever Baar’ur or Platoon Krill’s medic Aalar received a comm that it would be announcing another death. He was worried it would be another member of Ghost Company.

He was worried it would be Cody.

Two hours passed, then three. The next few waves of evacuees were strong enough to get into the LAAT/i gunships themselves, and they could sit; it provided more room for more of the troopers to be evacuated at a time.

Four hours passed.

“We’ll have to leave our camp here,” Obi-Wan explained to Aalar. “It will almost certainly be ransacked. Can I leave you here to oversee the evacuation while I do what I can to ensure the Separatists will not have access to our battle plans?”

Aalar nodded. “Of course, sir. Just make sure to be back here by the next wave; we only have about fifty men left. That’ll be it, or you’ll be stuck here alone.” He was joking, but no one really had the energy to joke; through the Living Force, Obi-Wan himself was starting to feel the exhaustion of his men.

Getting the battle plans from the command center was easy; walking past the medical tents, where the bodies of Obi-Wan’s troopers lay covered by what they had available was not. He reached out into the Force, trying to feel for their presences, knowing he wouldn’t.

He made it back to the edge of camp just before the last wave landed. It had been four and a half grueling hours, worse than nearly any battle Obi-Wan had experienced because he knew, somehow, that none of these men wanted to die on Ord Cestus but they would have accepted a warrior’s death, and this? This wasn’t meant for them.

Aalar nodded at Obi-Wan when he saw him arrive, movements sharp and quick. “Come on, General. Just a few more men.”

Obi-Wan flashed him a weak smile and helped him into the gunship. “I do hope you mean just a few more men to evacuate.”

“I hope so, too,” Aalar muttered, and Obi-Wan had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

:::

Two more men had died in transit. Cody wanted to shout at the news, or maybe throw something--it wasn’t supposed to be like this! But he hardly had even the energy to bury his face in his hands, and if he did that then he couldn’t breathe.

He coughed, feeling it deep in his chest, and then gasped at the pain in his rib cage, which made both the pain and the coughing fit worse.

It wasn’t supposed to _be_ like this. He refused to die at the hands of whatever the kriff this was.

Helix had arrived a few waves after he had, and despite being weak and in pain and having nearly as bad a cough as Cody’s he had immediately thrown himself into making as many men comfortable as he could. The most critical men were in the medbay; everyone else was in their quarters, and Helix and Baar’ur were making the rounds as best they could.

Cody was in the medbay. Helix had propped his head up on several of the stiff, standard-issue military pillows, trying to give his airway more room to expand. Cody had tried to convince Baar’ur that he didn’t need to be there; ve just shrugged and placed an oxygen mask over Cody’s face.

He needed to be on the bridge, or making the rounds himself, or with General Kenobi.

The ship began to hum. The last wave must be here; they were on their way to the medical station, which surely could handle a battalion’s worth of sick men. Everyone else would be fine.

The doors to the medbay burst open with far more energy than Cody thought any of the _vode_ had left.

Against his better judgment, he craned to see who it was.

His breath caught in his throat.

“He can’t be sick!” someone else exclaimed, before collapsing into a coughing fit.

General Obi-Wan Kenobi, deathly pale and semi-conscious, lay on the repulsor stretcher Aalar pushed into the medbay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a mostly-unplanned gap year, I started school again this week! I'm in an English class which means, unsurprisingly, a lot of writing... but not a lot of writing what I want. I don't think I've actually done any creative writing since Sunday (except in my head). I'm hoping to get this fic finished before my workload gets heavy so that I can just worry about remembering to post every week, but we'll see how that goes for me. I hope, however, that you enjoyed and that you're looking forward to Chapter 4!


	4. Ord Cestus Medical Station

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'm going to try to update once a week and stay ahead of my chapters!  
> Me, as soon as I start doing two things at once: Writing no longer exists.

“He sat down when he got into our gunship.” Aalar sat at the edge of Cody’s bed, because there wasn’t anywhere else to sit. The medics who could still move were gathered around, sitting on chairs, on Cody’s bed like Aalar--Iron was even sitting on the floor. “He was exhausted. We all are. I thought it was some Force thing. Thought I’d let him sleep it off. But when we got to the ship, he wouldn’t wake up.”

“He’s stable for now,” E’key said. Her voice was softer than normal. She was as fiercely protective of her patients as any clone medic, but she was quieter than the others, gentler. Instead of listening because there were consequences, her platoon--and anyone who ended up in her care by chance--listened because they didn’t want her jarringly tranquil disappointment. Still, this was muted even by her standards. She brushed at the hair threatening to escape from her bun, and her hand skimmed over the chunk missing from her ear. It was an old scar, but it always seemed to startle her--her hand settled back in her lap.

“We’re on our way to the medical station now. It’s not a long flight from our orbit. It’s probably overexertion.” Iron leaned back against the bed. “There’s really not much we can do.”

“Is a fever normal for Force overexertion?” Baar’ur asked.

No one said anything, so Cody piped up. “I hope that by being in here you aren’t letting anything happen to your patients.”

Everyone got to their feet. Cody was sure they would have leapt, if they weren’t so worn down from illness and from doing their work.

“Let’s discuss this more at the medical station,” he added as they filed out of the curtained-off space.

Baar’ur pulled the curtains back to give Cody a little more light. “Of course, sir,” ve said.

Cody didn’t mention that Obi-Wan could run himself ragged and still would not sleep unless Cody himself promised to keep watch. He had to convince himself that this was different.

:::

It was another hour between the medics’ conversation with Cody and _Negotiator_ docking with the medical station. Miraculously, Niner, whose breathing upon boarding the ship had been nearly as labored as Grev’s in their death throes, survived the trip.

The only people aboard who had the energy to greet the medical staff were the pilots, mechanics, and bridge officers who hadn’t been involved on the planet’s surface; a few of them were beginning to show symptoms, but they hadn’t been exposed long enough to be down for the count. General Kenobi still hadn’t woken up, and was himself breathing shallowly now, and Cody wasn’t allowed to stand up for any reason. He was sure Helix would give him a hypospray if he tried.

The staff of the medical station were a combination of civilian doctors, Kaminoan scientists, Jedi healers, and clone medics. In any other situation, it would just be the doctors and the healers, but this was war, and the clones were the only army available. The civilian doctors were blessedly not anti-clone; it frustrated Cody that he had to set the bar so low, but at least they weren’t beneath it.

Cody realized, after a moment, that there were no clone medics made available to greet their brothers. If this disease did target clones, that was probably for the best; still, the next most familiar faces were those of the Kaminoans, and they weren’t exactly a comforting sight for a clone trooper.

The civilian medics rushed the ship, starting with the critical patients in the medbay. One, a young Twi’lek woman, took hardly a glance at Niner before calling her associates over to help her. He was in the most need.

Cody didn’t have to fight himself, didn’t have to stop himself from asking them to take care of Kenobi first. His cough did that for him.

It took nearly as long to get all of the _vode_ out of the ship and onto the medical station as the evacuation itself had. Cody watched the room empty around him, and knew as he stayed that other brothers in their bunks had probably gotten sicker while he languished quietly in the medbay.

Watching Obi-Wan.

He still did not stir.

Kenobi. He wasn’t watching Obi-Wan. He was watching Kenobi.

Cody didn’t normally slip up like that.

He huffed at himself, and let his eyelids slide shut.

:::

Obi-Wan woke to an empty room.

A room.

A room?

He blinked, squeezed his eyes shut, went to rub them.

Something tugged at his left hand, sharp and stinging, and his right hit something plastic over his face. And still, wherever he was remained a room.

He touched the plastic on his face, ran his hand along it. The outside was warm, and... oh. He had refused to see out of his peripheral vision, but this was most definitely an oxygen mask.

That... that wasn't right. Was it? No, he had claimed the disease targeted clones. He was almost certain of it. There shouldn't be any reason for him to be masked.

It was most likely preventative. He turned his attention to the stinging in his left hand.

Having an IV inserted without his knowledge hardly seemed preventative.

He furrowed his brow, trying to remember the last few hours. The exhaustion of being awake for so long, of trying to protect his men, of using the Force so much. He remembered that. He remembered falling asleep on the gunship, because he trusted that Aalar would watch. He remembered....

Nothing. He didn't remember anything after he fell asleep on the gunship. How long ago was that, even?

He was not going to get in trouble with the medics, whatever was going on, so he did not remove the IV from his hand, and he did not remove the mask from his face, and he did not try to stand even though he desperately wanted to check in on his men.

Something to his side slid open, and he turned to face it, taking in more of his surroundings. Everything was sterile and shining, and the walls were some sort of transparisteel.

"Master Jedi," said a voice. It wasn't a clone or a Kaminoan, he was certain of that. "You're awake." The accent sounded vaguely Ryl. "How are you feeling?"

"I am somewhat confused," he admitted. "Why am I here? I thought the disease my men had targeted the clones' dee-en-ay specifically."

"Well, yes," the apparent Twi'lek said, "but you fell ill on Ord Cestus, too. We think you have what is known as Shadow Fever. It is contagious and incredibly dangerous; we were surprised you survived as long as you did."

Obi-Wan said nothing for a long moment. What could they possibly mean by _as long as he did_? He hadn't been ill.

"Your medics will be pleased to hear you are awake, but it may be as long as a week before they can come visit you. They pushed as hard as you did to make sure your battalion arrived safely. Their recovery will take longer than most."

Obi-Wan grimaced. But as long as the Twi'lek wasn't confirming more deaths, he would take it. "My commander?" he asked.

"See-See-Twenty-Two-Twenty-Four?" they asked.

Obi-Wan didn't roll his eyes at the serial number. He didn't. He only said, "Yes."

"He is recovering. Your battalion has only been here for about one standard day, and since we are still trying to determine exactly what caused their illness we are watching everyone closely, but since you arrived everyone appears to be recovering from the worst symptoms."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan replied. "And thank you for doing what you can to help us."

The Twi'lek said nothing; Obi-Wan guessed they left after delivering their report.

He looked around himself, taking in the room and searching for something to do. He had a datapad next to his bed, but he could tell already that it wasn't his own.

He groaned.

:::

Cody sat up straight in his bed. It was more comfortable than the bunks and bedrolls he was used to, which in and of itself was actually rather uncomfortable; he sank into the mattress and pillows, and they moved with his body, and it felt as though he was sinking into the mire on some backwater planet or another.

But at least he could sit up straight.

He could sit up straight, and although he could still feel the vibration of his lungs rattling in his chest he could breathe on his own. E'key was in the bed next to him, and he could tell she was fighting not to take care of her _vode_. On his other side was Waxer, with a civilian nurse next to him, teaching him how to use a nebulizer.

He looked at E'key. "Relax, _vod_ ," he said. Despite his efforts to use the tone he reserved for his fellow clones, his voice came out raw and thin.

E'key looked at him with that soft smile she always seemed to wear anyway. "Thanks, _ori'vod_ ," she replied. She still fidgeted, looking around the long room at her siblings, some lying asleep, some masked, some sitting up and eating, all alive, all breathing, but her movements were softer, slower now. She was taking in the fact that most of them had survived, rather than going to the next person who needed her help. If that was what "relax" meant to her, it was enough.

He gave her the same soft smile, the one they all had in them even if they didn't use it often (and Cody definitely did not use his often). He turned his attention to Waxer on his other side. "Hanging in there, brother?"

Waxer couldn't speak around the tube of the nebulizer in his mouth, but he nodded and the corners of his eyes wrinkled behind a smile Cody didn't quite see.

Waxer always found a reason to smile. Most of the deaths had been his platoon, and he was still smiling. If there was ever a clone who could live a normal life after the war, it was Waxer.

Cody gave him a sharp nod and reached for the datapad on his side table. It wasn't a military standard-issue 'pad; it was some sort of civilian medical thing, preprogrammed with data on a thousand and one diseases, some holovids Cody knew he wasn't going to watch, and a set of books and magazines he probably wasn't going to read. Was this really what civilians did to entertain themselves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikers! I meant to publish this a week ago (it's been completed for a couple weeks now) and it just... never happened. School + two jobs + once-in-a-century pandemic = stressed and forgetful Hope. But I'm working on it! And working on Chapter 5 in little increments whenever I need a breather, because other potential destressing techniques right now are actually... stressing me out more. Anyway! I hope that you enjoy!


	5. Land of the Living

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me? Remembering to post to my main project? Nah, couldn't be.  
> Big thanks to my beta, FlyingFreeYT, for always pointing out my things that need proofreading while we are both confused about why they can't edit the doc. And also for giving me this idea.

Bored.

Obi-Wan was bored. He had never been so bored in his life, even when he was just a crecheling, learning how to _sit still_ and meditate.

And he had meditated! He had meditated, and he had looked at the civilian datapad (and come to much the same conclusion as Cody), and he had commed Anakin and Ahsoka because they were apparently quite concerned for his wellbeing and that of his men--and he was still bored.

He wasn’t allowed to see his men, either. “You are still contagious,” the Twi’lek who seemed to be assigned to him had said. “They are still healing and could fall ill again. You are still healing.” He had a wall of transparisteel and three walls of duracrete and no one ever came within them except in full suits to prevent contaminating the rest of the facility.

He longed to see these doctors and healers face-to-face. He longed to see his men. He longed to see Cody.

Instead, he lay in his bed, obedient in all things, and was bored.

His comm lit up on the side table next to him.

“Kenobi,” he greeted, and it came out as a croak but it was nice to speak, at least.

“General,” said a clone’s voice. Cody’s voice; Obi-Wan knew Cody’s voice better than he knew any of the other _vode_.

“Commander,” he replied, fighting down the swelling in his heart, keeping his voice steady and neutral. His nose burned a little; was he really so deprived of sentient interaction that he was about to cry over hearing his Commander’s voice?

His Cody’s voice?

“How are the men?”

“All alive and healing, sir,” Cody said. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Obi-Wan frowned, his brow furrowing without his consent. “No, you wouldn’t,” he said, suddenly serious, cold, because the only other option was the pain of being kept away from his men and then he would have to acknowledge that he might be a bit too attached--. “They haven’t let me out of this room since I woke up.”

“I knew you were sick,” Cody said, “but sir, what do you mean by that?”

And Obi-Wan didn’t know how to explain. He was sick, contagious, a deadly disease he contracted before the clones ever came into contact with their own virus, something he should not have survived as long as he did. And no one would come near him without those blasted protective suits, and no one came to simply talk to him, and he was bored and so, so tired.

“They probably have him under quarantine,” another voice interjected before Obi-Wan can muster up a single word. Waxer, he thought. Such a bright and bubbly presence, although his voice and actions were normally muted, probably for fear of what the Kaminoans might say or do. It made Obi-Wan angry.

“Why quarantine?” Cody asked, and his voice was suddenly hard. It was his ‘General, what did you do?’ voice, his ‘General, please get some rest’ voice. Hard not like a stone, not bitter or angry, but a mask for his fear, lest he be seen as soft instead. Hard like plaster, hard like ceramic.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, and he knew that his Commander had no qualms about reprimanding him for this, “it seems I fell ill while we were on the planet’s surface with a lovely virus called Shadow Fever.”

A choked sound. “General, how come you never told us you were feeling sick?” One of the medics; he thought it might be E’key, since she was the only one who was ever so gentle in reprimanding those under her care, but he didn’t know her quite as well as Ghost Company and couldn’t be certain.

“I happened to be a little preoccupied,” Obi-Wan defended himself.

“You didn’t even know you were sick,” Cody guessed. “You thought it was just the Force telling you to slow down, and Force forbid you ever actually do.” He was accusing, not quite angry, but afraid. Why so afraid?

And, oh, Obi-Wan knew why, but if he acknowledged Cody’s feelings he would have to acknowledge his own, and he could not, he dared not, and he dared not hope.

“You were all falling ill!”

Cody sighed. Obi-Wan imagined him looking back to E’key, or perhaps Baar’ur or Helix. “Yes, General,” he said, “we were.”

There was a pause, short, a little awkward. Obi-Wan took a breath to ask how Cody himself was, with his troops struggling so, but--

“Do you think they’ll let us see you?”

Obi-Wan blinked. “Are you allowed up and about?” he asked.

“No!” Waxer chimed in helpfully. “But we should be soon.”

Obi-Wan huffed a quiet laugh. Oh, how Waxer made his life lighter. “Well, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be allowed to come see me once they let you out of that medbay of yours.”

Cody’s voice was softer this time when he asked, “Will they let us _see you_ , though?”

Obi-Wan coughed. “I certainly hope so. We need to make plans for our return to the planet’s surface.”

“Sir,” E’key chided, “rest first.”

Muffled, like he had turned away from the comm, Cody told E’key, “He doesn’t know how to do that.”

Obi-Wan could swear he heard every clone in the medbay laugh. He rolled his eyes a little, smirked, fought back a real smile. “I hope to see you soon, my dear troopers,” he said, and ended the communication.

He placed the commlink down on the table next to him, and his hand brushed at the datapad. He almost picked it up, to start drawing up plans to retake their original base and to continue their unfortunately unfinished siege, before he realized that this ‘pad was not connected to anything useful.

He supposed he could follow his medic’s orders, if there was nothing else of import to do. He leaned back into his pillows, far too many, and let his eyes slip closed.

:::

 _It was the same nightmare he had suffered many times before. The Jedi before him, leading the charge into battle, but his blaster would not follow his aim, would not stay straight. It strayed to his Jedi’s back, and no,_ no _, he would not kill him this time._

_Obi-Wan let out a cry and tumbled, falling to the feet of a thousand battle droids eager for the easy kill._

Cody woke up sweating and gasping and refusing to believe it was anything more than a nightmare brought on by his--care, he decided--for General Kenobi.

It would have helped if he didn’t know that his troopers had similar nightmares. But his medics told him everything they thought he needed to know, and that included how many troopers came to them to help with sleep after a dream like this.

He rubbed at his eyes, looked at his chrono. They were supposed to be allowed out of the medbay today, every last one of them, although they were not allowed to interact with the clone medics stationed at the depot.

Cody knew exactly what he was going to do once he was allowed out of the medbay. First, he was going to check in with every single _vod_ he could, especially his captains and lieutenants. That way, if he missed an individual trooper, he could at least hazard a guess at how they were feeling, how they were doing. Then, he was going to ask for directions to Kenobi’s quarantine room. He was going to check on his General.

See him face to face.

Maybe, if the hallways were quiet enough, if there was no one but the two of them, he would--he would be more frank with the General. More honest. Less beating around the bush, as it were, regarding just how much he cared for the _di’kutla_ Jedi.

He had never wanted to. He was content with the way things were, truly. But… he had lost his _vode_ to something he never thought they’d be vulnerable to, nearly lost his Jedi and didn’t even know, and Force forbid if he let himself go another day without it being said. If General Kenobi didn’t reciprocate, he could accept that. He could understand. He knew he wasn’t quite… he wasn’t what the General deserved, if the General even _wanted_ , so committed to his Code as he was (but Cody did not know that, in fact, he simply misunderstood the Code, and that the Code was not there to keep two, or three, or many people who loved each other apart). But he had to let Kenobi know.

But for now, it was still too early in the morning for much of anyone to be awake, and so he laid down, sinking into the too-soft mattress and pillows, and simply allowed himself to think until, perhaps, his body dragged him down into sleep again.

:::

“Welcome back to the land of the living.”

Cody rubbed at bleary eyes and sat up straight. Waxer stood in front of him, Boil right next to him, and Waxer was holding a bundle of blacks.

Cody would swear, later, that he did not cheer. It would be undignified. His captains and lieutenants would swear that he cheered so loudly they could hear from other medbays.


	6. Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience as I've tried to balance school, work, and life. I'm about to start my summer break (from school) and I hope I'll find it a lot easier to write and update consistently. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter!

The medical station was huge, almost as much a maze as the _Venator_ -class star destroyers Cody spent so much of his time on, or Tipoca City on Kamino just a few years ago.

It was, as a result, surprisingly simple to navigate after just one self-guided tour. Every floor was the same, so finding Kenobi was a simple matter of knowing which floor he was on.

Waxer and Crys followed him around, and he was hoping to see Kenobi alone, but not having to explore the medical station on his own was welcome.

Waxer grinned at everyone they passed. Crys had to reach out an arm to stop him from bounding up to the few clone medics they passed.

“You can talk to them from a distance,” Cody finally sighed. Truthfully, he wasn’t annoyed with his brother--he rarely was--but he knew Crys well enough to guess that the yellow-blond clone was getting tired of Waxer’s antics.

“It’s a habit.” Waxer’s smile didn’t fall. It rarely did, except on missions.

They finished their lap of the floor they were on and went to the lift to take them down to the next level. “In your defense, I doubt we’ll actually get anyone sick if they’re letting us out.” Cody punched the down button. “But they still want us to stay away from the healthy _vode_.”

“Can they do anything if we don’t?” Crys asked.

“Not sure,” Cody admitted, and the lift lurched, beginning their descent. “But there are _kaminiise_ here. Wouldn’t trust them as far as they could throw me.”

Waxer shrugged. “There are brothers here, too. They’ll stand up for us. So will the General.”

Cody smiled and blushed just a little. He trusted Kenobi more than almost any clone trusted an outsider. Bly’s trust for General Secura or Wolffe’s trust for General Koon were the only things, he thought, that came close.

“The long-necks might have the civilians on their side,” Crys countered. “And they definitely have the Senate.”

“You just love playing devil’s advocate, Crys.” But Waxer was still smiling. “I’ll try to be a little less friendly.”

The lift shuddered to a halt and they stepped out, facing the series of medbays that lined the star-side wing of each floor.

“Probably a good choice, _vod_ ,” Cody commented, and clapped Waxer on the shoulder. “Now come on. We’ve got a General to see.”

:::

Obi-Wan recognized Cody by his Force signature long before he saw him, and it flooded him with feelings he had begun to associate only with his Commander. Relief, joy, a bit of excitement--feelings that made him smile. Feelings that made his heart beat a little harder, and his stomach swoop.

He normally ignored those feelings, but it had been far too long since he had seen his Commander. Even a week was more than normal. They were never on leave that long.

So he let himself be happy, and excited, and relieved. Cody was safety, and Obi-Wan was okay with that.

Cody rounded the corner with Waxer and Crys by his side, and Obi-Wan sat up so quickly that he sent himself into a coughing fit. When he could breathe well enough to look up again, Cody frowned at him from the other side of the transparisteel, arms folded, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Some case of Force exhaustion,” Cody supplied.

Waxer laughed, and Crys smirked. Obi-Wan didn’t know what to think of Crys’s expression, so he instead ignored it, focusing on Cody.

This was, perhaps, a poor choice, seeing as how Crys’s smirk only grew out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s good to see you, too, Commander,” Obi-Wan said dryly. He turned to Waxer and Crys. “And you two. How are your troopers? Is everyone healing well?”

If Obi-Wan hadn’t known Waxer since he was a rookie, a _shiny_ as the clones sometimes called them, perhaps he would have been surprised that the grin threatening to split the man’s face in half only grew at Obi-Wan’s concern. But he had known Waxer for over a year and a half, since the war began, and as long as he felt safe he could probably smile to rival the size of the galaxy.

“As you know,” Waxer began, “we lost about a squad’s worth of men.” His smile faltered then, but didn’t die. “But not all of them were from my platoon. My platoon is… grieving,” and he hesitated there, because they were _made to be stronger than that_ , and it made something go tight in the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach, that Waxer couldn’t even say that his troopers were _grieving_. “But they’ll be alright. We still have each other.”

Obi-Wan nodded, and he knew the smile he wore was too tight, too forced, but he still gave it to Waxer, and Waxer’s own grin expanded again.

 _How does he do that?_ Obi-Wan thought, because he could release his emotions into the Force all day and all night and still not have the resilience Waxer did.

What a good man.

Crys shrugged. “We’re okay, General. This was an unpleasant surprise, but we’re okay. We just need you to hurry and heal up so we can get back to doing what we do best: blasting clankers.” He twitched his eyebrows up and flashed the tiniest real smile before settling back into his more signature smirk. He reached out, far too conspicuously, for Waxer’s wrist, and dragged his brother back toward the lift on the other side of the floor.

Cody watched them go, a little wistful, until they rounded the corner away from the isolation room and his attention snapped back to Obi-Wan.

“You can go with them, Commander,” Obi-Wan offered, though he didn’t really want him to.

“You’re right here, General,” Cody countered. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Obi-Wan was helpless to hide the light in his eyes. “I am glad you’re here, Cody.” He made to stand up, but Cody placed his hand on the transparisteel, as if he could put it on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, as if he could settle him back into the too-many-too-soft pillows.

“I’m afraid, Obi-Wan,” and Obi-Wan’s heart skipped at the use of his name, “that if you try to get up, I’ll have to sic the medics on you.”

Obi-Wan grinned defiantly. “You wouldn’t dare, my dear Commander.”

Cody raised his eyebrows, tilted his head, looked up and down the corridor. And then, in the smallest voice Obi-Wan had ever heard from him, Cody admitted, “I care far too much for your wellbeing to allow you to endanger yourself needlessly.”

It wasn’t much. He had heard far more eloquent and verbose declarations of love, including from Satine years ago. But it was Cody, and Cody wasn’t verbose, and Cody’s experience with love mostly consisted of keeping his _vode_ safe on the battlefield, and so Obi-Wan understood, and it was enough.

By the Force, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my beta reader, FlyingFreeYT! (I know, I actually got a beta reader.) You've been a great help from beginning to end, and I appreciate you dearly! Thank you for the inspiration and the beta.


End file.
